The Rivalry of Madmen
by yuni30
Summary: When a murder occurs, usually the world's only consultant detective comes in to solve it. What's strange is the murderer is just as smart as he- except with a higher range of vision. Note: No pairings!
1. Strange New Case

A chase through the streets of London, a serial killer hunted down by someone who could have easily been the predator he was chasing, all down to one of the two standing in the hunt. He had done so effortlessly, for it was second nature. The entire Academy knew him as a teacher, doctor, scientist, friend, and demented psychopath, and he was the person selected for this mission.

It was a categorized as a three star mission, mostly because of the high population in the area, and that had the creature eaten close to another fifty souls, it would have been a kishin. That granted, it was still nothing more than another specimen to be collected, and done so flawlessly, by the stitched up meister with literally a screw loose.

He had fulfilled the mission without harm, and had collected another soul for his fleeting research on the way back to the Academy. What was left, however, was a body, one he had forgotten in haste, despite his interest in dissection. He had carelessly left it there to rot while he left with what he had desired.

A text alert rang out from the pocket of a jacket. The owner swiftly retrieved the device and read through: "Found a body. May interest you. At morgue." The owner sighed and quickly texted back to the sender of the message, "Where was the body? SH" He continued his walk back to the flat. How he needed the fresh air. When there aren't any thrilling cases, London could be very boring.

His phone alerted him again. He fished it out of his pocket and read, "Hyde park and cut down the middle. No links yet on who could have done so. Still waiting to ID the body." As pale green eyes finished glancing over the phone's screen, a small smile formed on a pale face graced by curly black bangs. He texted his colleague then spun around and began to hail a cab.

At the morgue

"So, this is the body," said a slightly shorter man with short blond hair and a cream sweater. "Looks like a clean cut- like he was sawed in half." He looked at his much taller friend on the other side of the examination table.

"No. Look at the body. The skin is cut straight and peeled in. It was a giant blade, however…" Pale green eyes glanced here and there over the body. "Molly...?"

He was addressing the brown haired woman standing near the table. She made a small noise in response at her name. "Yes, Sherlock?"

"The name of the victim?"

"No luck ye-"

"Burke Palmer. A serial killer known for snatching up little kids and supposedly poisoning them, at least, and this one has been on Lestrade's radar. A case I've solved for him inadvertently- and the murderer has made it easier to solve." He continued to look over the body as he stated this information. After a few seconds, he breathed in heavily and noticeably.

"What is it," John- the man in the sweater- piped up.

"This case does not concern us, John. I know who this "murderer" is." He fished out his phone and began to text as he was leaving. "Bye, Molly."

"Why did you ask if you already knew?"

Sherlock paused. "To see if you already knew." With that he left.

"Sherlock…," John began as he raised his hand to hail a cab. "Who _is_ the murderer?"

Sherlock glanced at John with a smug look. "A man I've encountered before. His name is Franken Stein, and he is known for his skills in America. He has authorization to hunt down people like Burke Palmer."

John shifted uncomfortably. "So he gets to go around killing whoever he wants as long as it's authorized?" Sherlock nodded.

"He also is a rival. His deduction skills are as advanced as mine. His only weaknesses are insanity and the lure of science-"

"Which is one of your weaknesses, Sherlock."

"Shut up," Sherlock chided.

"So…," John continued as he waited for a cab to stop. "What does he look like?"

"He's the same height as me. He has numerous scars on his body, grey hair, is incredibly fond of his stitch covered lab coat and sweater… and has a screw in his head-"

"I'm sorry- Did you say 'in his _head_'," John exclaimed. "That's impossible to do without dying," he claimed as he drew pointed glares at Sherlock.

Sherlock only stared back. "You didn't let me finish. He claims it's straight through the skull. I believe that that is entirely untrue. The screw is on a metal piece, like a bolt, that turns. The head and the end are both fastened in the exact same way with a magnet simulating the turning of a real screw. It is either that or a head band. Those seem to be the most plausible."

The cab pulled up and they got in. "So… What kind of rivals are you two? Friends and enemies, or is it more like… Moriarty," John continued.

Sherlock was silent, he was thinking. His lips pursed and then he tilted his head after a moment. "It's better if I explain it to you… "


	2. Doctor Franken Stein

It was another case, another murder. A man had been killed and there was no possible entrance. There was no damage to the body, so all that was injured or compromised could possibly be the internal systems. I suspected it was poison, but I was… wrong.

What had happened was beyond science. Yes, I do not believe there is a higher power, I not included, but there was some other unexplainable, strange force at work at the scene.

The case was already solved by another man. He was covered in stitches, and had the stature of a soldier, yet the smirk on his face and the sweater suggested that he was more than the standard military doctor. I would have to say, the strangest feature about the tall, slender, grey headed man I saw that day at the scene of the murder was the screw he had sticking straight through his skull. It wasn't head band, now that I think about it; it had to be my latter theory concerning the magnets at the spinning metal pieces.

Lestrade approached me before I was within arms distance of the strange doctor.

"Sherlock, you're late." He had scolded me like a child on my tardiness, and then he introduced me to the man that had so rudely taken _my_ place at the crime scene.

"Sherlock," John interjected. "You _do_ realize that you don't have a specific place at the crime scene. You're just there to give your thoughts on the matter."

"That's _my_ place at the crime scene. I'm there to advise on everything the bumbling idiots at Scotland Yard miss," Sherlock snapped back, startling the cab driver so much that he suddenly applied the brakes. He looked back at Sherlock in slight anger.

"Keep it down, ya joke," the cabby demanded.

They both nodded, and Sherlock continued.

"This is Dr. Franken Stein. He's here on official business from America's DWMA. He solved the crime. Dr. Stein, this is Sherlock Holmes." I was baffled when he had told me that a man with a screw through his skull had solved the mystery. I tilted my head, studying the man, wondering what had made him so special that he could solve crimes quicker than I.

He held out his hand to me, a gesture of greeting. I ignored it of course, trying to piece together how he could have solved it so fast. Perhaps, he was like me: a high functioning sociopath. This meant that he had the same dangerous mentality. This also meant that he could piece together information at an alarming rate.

"Well, you're sore for some reason. You do realize it's rude to not shake someone's hand when they hold it out to you, right? Common social law." His voice was cold and monotonous. This nearly confirmed my suspicion. I rigidly took his hand. After a few seconds of the awkward greeting tradition he let go. "Wasn't so bad, now was it?" His smile was extremely false.

"My question is: what are your theories? Poison ingested with the food?" He shook his head. "Tainted water supply?" He denied it again. "Suicide by pills? Rotten food?" Both were negative.

"A witches spell."

A laugh almost escaped me. "'A witches spell.'" I eyed him carefully for any sign of humor. None existed. "Honestly, Scotland Yard accepted it: I'm not surprised. But you're a doctor-"

"A doctor that specializes in Soul Studies and all other sciences."

"So you're one of those religious ones, hmm?" I studied his face again. His brow furrowed slightly at the notion. "You are?"

"No. You wouldn't understand. You don't possess the ability I have. What is it like for normal humans? It must be troubling to not be able to read souls." He was scoffing at me. He thought he was above me, John.

"How would you know? Have you ever seen a human soul?"

"Yes. Have you?" He was smirking but still maintaining his monotonous tone. I shook my head. "Then let me show you." He placed his right hand on my shoulder with the smirk plastered still on his face. I didn't notice noticed that his left coat pocket was glowing at first, but it seemed his hand had some sort of effect on my vision. He pulled the object out and revealed a blue orb. "Do you see the darkness wrapped around it?"

It was there. There was a dark haze around what may have been a bright blue ball. "So, that's what killed the man." Dr. Stein's smirk grew wider.

"Yes. Why don't we head back to your place and discuss this further Mr. Holmes?" We then walked back to the flat to discuss the nature of the case. We also discussed the differences in our crime solving skills, and found that we were very much alike.

**Hehehehehe… FairyKats requested it. I thought it would be fun! No pairings, by the way. Just Stein and Sherlock meeting each other. **


End file.
